


Mule Creek Ranch: Team Building Exercise

by mx_vertiginous



Series: Mule Creek Ranch [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Aphrodisiacs, Breeding, Breeding stand, Caning, Drugged Sex, Dystopia, F/M, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Human Livestock, Medical Trauma, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Fiction, Original shadowy corporation - Freeform, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx_vertiginous/pseuds/mx_vertiginous
Summary: Third story in the Mule Creek Ranch series. Original fiction set in a dystopian universe, where young women are kept as livestock for the reproductive needs of rich/powerful men.This installment picks up the themes of the previous tale, exploring further the shadowy Corporation controlling the ranch, as well as the consequences of drugging people into obedient livestock.  Told from the POV of one of the breeder women. Beware this story contains explicit rape, gang rape and non-con drug use.  Please heed the tags.





	

The crack of a cane woke the girl from a dead sleep. Hay. The world smelled of hay and the distant ammonia sting of old piss, and the cold bite of morning pricked at her bare skin. “OW!” she whined, stumbling to her feet.

Pain seared across her shoulders again “Knees, dumbass!” her trainer commanded. 

Oh yeah, she thought to herself. All fours. Every morning she tried to stand, and every morning started off with the whip. And her days rarely got better from there. There was always some rule she was hazy on. Always a word that came to her lips that she wasn’t allowed to use. And the man with the cane, her man with the cane, was always quick to punish wrongdoing and slow to notice anything she got right. 

If she got things right. She wasn’t quite sure she had “right” in her anymore. There were a lot of things she forgot, bits of ideas floated through her mind, fading and fragmenting. Maybe it was for the best that she had her man with the cane looking after her. 

Blearily, she crawled over to her food trough, stopping to rub grit and straw out of her eyes, flinching just in case he saw and smacked her for it. He didn’t. He’d been too busy filling her trough with kibble and switching out her stale water. At least there was food, she thought, scooping a hand into the dry, dull pellets. She couldn’t quite remember being truly hungry, but still the idea hovered at the back of her mind that sometime there hadn’t been food. 

“Hey, dumbass, got something for ya.” Her man with the cane (trainer; he was called her trainer) put down a dish filled with sweet mush.

Mush. Mush meant something. Mush meant it was a work day. She never could figure out the rhyme or reason behind why some days she was put to work and others not. But work days were good days. She knew her place on work days. 

As she snarfed down the honeyed slop, a dark haired trainer she didn’t recognize stopped by the side of her pen to talk. “What’s this I hear about a tour group?” 

“You guys didn’t get the shitheads from Corporate over in Sector 4?” Her trainer spat over his shoulder, spattering the girl as she tried to eat. “A bunch of middle management pencil pushers, ‘employee of the month’ and crap like that. Leadership sends a handful of ‘em out here as a reward for making their bullshit quotas or something. They call it ‘team building,’ but back in the mines we woulda called it a gang bang.” He gave a hoarse bark of a laugh. 

The girl couldn’t make much sense of it. The words filtered through the net of her brain, pencil pushing and quotas and team building; she tried to arrange them into something that made sense. But failed. 

The mush though, the mush meant it was a work day. She knew her place on work days. And it wasn’t her place to make sense of things.

Her hunch was confirmed when her trainer took out the leash and gave a whistle. “Come on, dumbass; you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.” He cleared the straw out of her hair, brushed it and put it up in a cascading ponytail rather than her usual practical braids. He hosed her down with a warm spray of water and toweled her off before trotting her out into the packed dirt aisle between the rows of pens. When she surged ahead to the length of her lead, choking herself, he just responded with a good natured tap. “Can’t mark you up too much, even the desk jockeys bitch about damaged goods.”

As soon as they reached the breeding pen, she cheerfully crawled over to the mini-fridge full of medication. 

Her trainer chuckled. “You may be dumb as rocks, girl, but of all the bitches here, you sure love your job.”

Latching the gate, he let her off leash. This routine was the one thing her mind had managed to retain, and she was eager to get started. Her trainer didn’t bother to restrain her, measuring out the syringe full of aphrodisiacs and fertility meds while she rubbed her head at his knee. She didn’t even mind the pinch of the needle in her shoulder, because within minutes the warm tingle filled her body. She rolled over onto her side in the hay.

“God damnit, dumbass, I just cleaned you up!” Her trainer slipped his fingers inside her collar and jerked her up, picking straw out of her hair as he led her over to the breeding stand. “Shit girl, you are a pain in my fucking ass.”

Docile, she climbed the steps, too preoccupied with the delicious heat collecting in her lower belly to worry about his curses; he wouldn’t cane her hard on a work day. She leaned her shoulders into the yoke, waiting patiently for her trainer to fit the padded oxbow firmly around her neck, lock it and gag her. He shackled her wrists to the frame, then spread her legs wide and strapped her calves down to the base. 

Work days were good days, already the drugs had eased the pain of the morning and she felt safe now. Locked into the breeding stand, bare ass exposed, gagged into silence, her field of vision limited to a few feet of dirt in front of her face, there wasn’t anything she could get wrong. 

When the gate to the pen opened, and a man in freshly shined wing tips and crisp pressed wool trousers entered, he was followed; not just by the well-worn leather boots of the ranch Overseer, but by three more men with shabby cuffs and scuffed oxfords, one who didn’t so much walk as waddle. Twisting in the yoke, she tried to crane her head and see higher than their ankles, but failed. There had never been followers before. They were confusing, but the drugs coursing through her body distracted her. She wanted filling… her cunt needed filling. Arching her back and whining behind the ball gag, she tried to wiggle her butt down to rub her pussy against her heel, anything that would ease her hunger. 

“You go first, boss.” A low voice chuckled behind her. One of the shabby men.

“No, no, Rick. You earned it this month.” The voice came from the direction of the shiny leather shoes in front of her, “Go on, have a go at her.” 

The low voice again, “I couldn’t Mr. Anderson; you’ve got seniority.”

The girl whined as loud as she could from behind the gag, bucking against the shackles. This was torture unlike any beating. Her body was buzzing, her breasts aching, her dripping cunt cool in the breeze from the fan. But the man, the man clearly here for her, he didn’t do anything. 

The fine wool trousers laughed at her squirming. “Hell no, Rick, that’s a wild mustang, you gotta break her in for me.”

The Overseer interrupted, “Naw, this one is pretty tame. She just wants y’all to get going.”

Finally, a warm hand stroked her ass and she leaned into it with anticipation; her body aching. A zipper crackled behind her, it had to be one of the shabby men, and finally the head of a firm cock traced temptingly along her crack. She arched her back and leaned back as far as her shackles would allow, trying to ease the man’s cock into her, but he only teased at her entrance. 

A thin reedy voice spoke up, “Aw, come on Rick, give the little slut what she wants.”

He gripped her hips and with a grunt, thrust into her hard; she squealed into the rubber gag with joy. He was thick and meaty and her cunt trembled around him, trying to pace him in as he rode her hard and deep. Every nerve in her body was focused on the full pulse of her cunt, when unexpectedly, other hands groped at her breasts, and the confusion of sensations was overwhelming. Fingers gently brushed her nipples, then pinched and instead of pain her body flushed with energy and she screamed, drooling against the ball gag. The cock inside her kicked, and the man groaned and then it was over.

Or so she thought. Because it always had been before. The warmth, the tingling, the wanting, the man grunting inside her with satisfaction. That was her work, that was her place in the world. And then her trainer would insert a retainer and she’d be led back to her pen, to roll around in the hay pleasing herself until the drugs wore off.

But instead, the crisp pressed trousers edged out of her vision, walking behind her. “My turn,” his voice chuckled, as his finger traced her tender cunt, still sloppy and dripping from the first man. With a groan, he slipped his cock inside her. A well manicured hand reached below her hips, feeling around her pussy. This man did not fuck her hard or fast; he sunk deep inside her, leaned his hips into her ass and stroked at her clit until her whole body was trembling, the heat building again inside her. 

Hazy male voices buzzed at the edges of her mind. Confused, she vaguely registered her trainer say “no promises she won’t bite it off, man,” as he loosened and removed her gag. 

Almost immediately her head was jerked up by her ponytail, scuffed shoes swam into her vision and another cock was pressing into her mouth. She opened her mouth as far as possible, not sure what she was supposed to do. Her whole body flinched in fear; she was wholly at their mercy, she knew she would get this wrong and there would be hell to pay. 

But the men seemed not to care. In front of her, the reedy voiced man gave a thin cackle as he wrapped his hand around the back of her head and forced his dick so deep into her throat, that she had to relax in order not to puke. Her rush of fear couldn’t stand up to the fine man’s persistent fingers and heavy cocktail of aphrodisiacs. As she teetered on the edge of climax, the man behind started working his cock in and out of her and the man in her mouth followed his rhythm and she was unbearably full. Her whole body screamed in pleasure as the drugs coursed through her, and the cock in her mouth spit a hot load of thick cum into her throat. Hastily, she swallowed as much as she could, but the man behind her was fucking her harder now and cum dribbled down her chin as she screamed in ecstasy, until he sunk into her with a heavy groan, his cock pumping her so full she could feel the cum dripping out of her.

When they both pulled out her body felt empty, a worn out husk. The desperate edge that always came along with the drugs had been filed off, leaving her contented. Her trainer used her ponytail to gently ease her head up and offered her a drink of something cool, sweet and fizzy. She gulped it down, eager for the sweetness, but still loose, boneless and tired. 

“Hang on boys, let me give her a little refresher… make a few adjustments for the big man.” 

The pinch came in her shoulder again. More meds. How much more? A nameless panic washed over her, this wasn’t the routine at all. Then there was a tug on the cuffs around her calves and ankles as he adjusted the stand and pulled her into a half straddle; knees wide, ass in the air. Her thighs began to twinge, and then the drugs rushed in and wiped the cramp away. Satisfaction ebbed, replaced by the familiar want in her groin.

“There you go, sir. A little easier,” came the familiar voice of her trainer.

A deep chuckle responded. “Thanks.”

A soft belly leaned into the crest of her ass, but then he adjusted, pulling his gut up to rest on her hips and the tip of his cock teased at her entrance. He slowly thrust into her and she felt about to split open. Even though her aching cunt had been worked over hard by the other men, this man’s cock was so thick inside her it stretched her past her limits. The men around her chatted and laughed, but the whole focus of her existence was on the huge cock inside her. The first few seconds of agony gave way to a delicious sense of wholeness as he thrust inside her with a grunt.

“Good little whore,” the deep voice rumbled approvingly.

But then there was a tug again at her ponytail and a firm veiny cock brushed against her cheek. This time she reached out her tongue, eagerly licking the salty syrup off ridge of its head as the man behind her settled into her cunt. 

The cock in front of her disappeared, and a scruffy bearded face swam into view. “Aren’t you just a cum-hungry whore,” the low voice said with a crooked grin.

Cum-hungry whore, she repeated to herself, gasping as the big man pulled back and then thrust back in, more forcefully this time. Cum-hungry whore, she thought again, licking and sucking at the dick that had reappeared in front of her. And then, both men thrust in at once and wiped all thoughts from her mind.. Pinned and skewered, her body sang with energy as they both pulled back and thrust in perfect time, leaving her feeling flayed open, every nerve tingling with release. 

The big man leaned heavy into her hips as the cock in her mouth spit into the back of her throat. Another thrust from behind and she cried out, cum dripping out of the sides of her mouth. The face swam into view again, the man gently wiping the mess off her chin, offering his fingers to her. Eagerly, she sucked the cum off his fingers as if it was sweet nectar, mumbling the few words allowed to her: “Thank you.”

Her entire consciousness returned to the thick cock inside her, the big man now riding her more vigorously. Her whole body went weak, and it was all she could do to lean into her restraints, cunt pulsing against the thickness of him. He bottomed out in her, letting loose his load and the force reverberated all the way up to her brainstem and rattled her very skull.

She collapsed, overcome, against the heavy metal breeding stand. Tears streamed down her face and she gibbered away in a hoars babble. The world around her went fuzzy and soft, except for the smell of warm clean hay in her nostrils. She didn’t feel the big man pull out of her; she barely felt anything except a dull buzzing in her arms and legs. 

“All right, boys, I think you wore out your toy,” the Overseer’s familiar voice rang out from the side of the pen. “Let’s go get some barbeque and then corporate wants me to take you on a tour of operations.” 

As the other men shuffled out, her trainer loosened her shackles and removed the padded oxbow yoke, allowing the girl to puddle on the ground. Her limbs were shifted, the usual rubber retainer plug was inserted, and her trainer hosed her down with warm water. Her body was floppy and disconnected, like a rag thrown in the corner of the pen. 

But her mind… her mind was grasping. Trying to remember, trying to hold on. A man had looked her in the eye, and said something nice. She wanted to keep that word in her mind forever. Whore; the both of them had called her whore. And one had smiled as he said it. It must be a nice thing. Words were slippery, and she was exhausted, but if only she could hold onto that one nice thing in her head. To bring it back when she needed it. 

Her trainer shifted her into a wheelbarrow, and moved her back to her pen. He gave her a little more of the sweet fizzy drink, and brought her a blanket. She lay curled up in the hay of her pen, totally exhausted, but holding fast to that one word. The next time she got yelled at, or her trainer caned her hide, she could remember, she could know.

She was not a dumbass; she was a whore. And that was something she could be proud of.


End file.
